Ten Greatest Poets – Pablo Neruda, Greatest Poet of the Twentieth Century

PABLO NERUDA, GREATEST POET OF THE TWENTIETH CENTURY

Awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1971, Pablo Neruda, pen name—and later legal name—of Ricardo Eliécer Neftalí Reyes Basoalto, has been hailed as “the greatest poet of the twentieth century” by Gabriel García Márquez, himself winner of the same prize in 1982. Although the title’s bestowal by Márquez is debatable, there is no doubt that Neruda is one of the most important poets of Latin America in the twentieth century. In this respect, he could also be considered the greatest.

Choosing a recent or contemporary figure by declaring their lasting relevance to future generations is always tricky because we lack the perspective of long history, but if we don’t make a choice, we end up settling for our unsatisfactory reluctance to risk premature judgment.

More than a handful of poets of the last century, some still living, could qualify, besides Neruda, for inclusion in the top ten. Among them, we are inclined to mention Edward Estlin Cummings, or “e. e. cummings,” all lower-case letters, as his name was often printed in his published works. Cummings passed away in 1962. He introduced his highly innovative poetry at the beginning of the last century, the influence of which extends to the present day. He spectacularly broke free of nineteenth-century conventions of poetic form, experimenting with grammar, syntax, diction, meaning, and particularly the visual arrangement of words on the page, effectively engaging and often delighting the reader, and successfully creating his own unique, instantly recognizable voice. Cummings was a revolutionary in the best sense of the word. Nearly half a century after his demise, his cleverly inventive poetry endures, and it is especially popular among the young.

Cummings was not selected for inclusion in the top ten for two reasons. First, we already have an American, Walt Whitman, in the list. Second, it is only appropriate that a worthy representative of the rich, expansive culture and heritage of Spain and the colonies of the former Spanish Empire, Central and South America in major measure—as a whole, populous, important, and influential—should make the list. If we add up the various populations of this grouping of countries, excluding the 18 present-day U.S. states that were formerly Spanish, the total equals approximately 850 million today.

Neruda is recognized as a master of the lyric and the epic, but critical reviews of his work tend to judge him a better lyric poet than epic.

One of his earliest works, Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair, published in 1924 when he was only 19 years old, established his reputation as a poet. This collection shines a spotlight on Neruda’s keen sensitivity and highly original lyricism. Consider, for example, the first stanza of “I Remember You as You Were”:

I remember as you were in the last autumn.

You were the grey beret and the still heart.

In your eyes the flames of the twilight fought on.

And the leaves fell in the water of your soul.

Excerpt is from Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair (2006), transl. by W. S. Merwin, intro. by Cristina Garcia, page 15.

Neruda would return to the motif of romantic love multiple times, notably in One Hundred Love Sonnets, published in 1959. “Sonnet XVII” in this collection illustrates well his mastery of the lyric.

Our appreciation of any poet not writing in the English language depends substantially on the quality of the translation. Fortunately, the English translation of this poem by Mark Eisner is excellent.

ONE HUNDRED LOVE SONNETS: XVII by Pablo Neruda

Original language Spanish

Translated by Mark Eisner

I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz,  

or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:  

I love you as one loves certain obscure things,  

secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom but carries  

the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself,  

and thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose  

from the earth lives dimly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,  

I love you directly without problems or pride:

I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,

except in this form in which I am not nor are you,  

so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,  

so close that your eyes close with my dreams.

Each line of this splendid poem harbors a trove of meanings, imaginings, and feelings. They inhabit, as it were, a tenuous penumbra wherein figurative language simultaneously communicates and obscures. How does love exist “between the shadow and the soul”? Is there space in between? “Your hand on my chest is mine”—do these words express oneness of being with the beloved or do they describe some mysteriously separate union?

Neruda’s epic masterpiece, Canto General, published in 1950, is political poetry. Concerning this work, some have disputed his ideologically based claims—he was a Communist—besides his overall vision. Mark Strand, for example, in The New Yorker has written: “His largeness of spirit…in ‘Canto General’ was sometimes cramped by ideology.”

Neruda is at his best in the lyric. He might be described as the Sappho of the twentieth century. He has been styled “the ecstasist” by Strand.

Published in 1958, “Keeping Quiet” shows his lyrical flair. At the same time in this poem we come across the political Neruda. We encounter his deep passion for things political as well as his activist social vision.

KEEPING QUIET by Pablo Neruda

Original language Spanish

Translated by Alastair Reid

And now we will count to twelve

and we will all keep still.

For once on the face of the earth

let’s not speak in any language,

let’s stop for one second,

and not move our arms so much.

It would be an exotic moment

without rush, without engines,

we would all be together

in a sudden strangeness.

Fisherman in the cold sea

would not harm whales

and the man gathering salt

would not look at his hurt hands.

Those who prepare green wars,

wars with gas, wars with fire,

victory with no survivors,

would put on clean clothes

and walk about with their brothers

in the shade, doing nothing.

What I want should not be confused

with total inactivity.

Life is what it is about,

I want no truck with death.

If we were not so single-minded

about keeping our lives moving,

and for once could do nothing,

perhaps a huge silence

might interrupt this sadness

of never understanding ourselves

and of threatening ourselves with death.

Perhaps the earth can teach us

as when everything seems dead

and later proves to be alive.

Now I’ll count up to twelve,

and you keep quiet and I will go.

Let’s “all keep still,” Neruda urges, so that “those who prepare green wars” would “walk about with their brothers.” “I want no truck with death,” he intones.

From his twenties into his thirties, Neruda was, we might say, a political mute. The turning point in his political development was the execution in 1936 by a fascist militia of the leftist Federico García Lorca, a fellow poet and dear friend. Thenceforth, Neruda turned anti-fascist, which in the calculus of the Spanish Civil War meant that he became a Communist. He maintained this ideological position the rest of his life.

When in 1973 Augusto Pinochet instigated a successful coup d’état against the regime of Marxist President Salvador Allende of Chile, Neruda was a prominent target. The circumstances surrounding his death indicate that he had been poisoned, probably on Pinochet’s orders. Neruda died soon after he had been injected in the stomach by a doctor.

Numbers 11 to 20 Greatest Poets:

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Pablo Neruda, 1963